


Words Are Very Unnecessary

by Thatmalu



Category: IT (1990), IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier-centric, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mute Eddie Kaspbrak, Muteness, Past Abuse, Richie Tozier & Stanley Uris Are Best Friends, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Soft Eddie Kaspbrak, Soft Richie Tozier, Sonia Kaspbrak's A+ Parenting, Speech Disorders, literally just a sentence but still
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:01:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27650377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thatmalu/pseuds/Thatmalu
Summary: Only the one young man sat in the waiting room still. He looked up from his lap and Richie swore his eyes weren’tthatfucking pretty before. Or maybe he just wasn’t paying enough attention, but they caught Richie up like a deer in headlights.The wind was knocked right out of Richie’s chest when he smiled at Richie again, the slightest tint of pink on his cheeks, his limbs shuffling around in a way that could only be bashfulness, like he wanted to fold in on himself and hide in his own skin. Richie had been pining over this guy formonths,and he had rehearsed this greeting about a million times.“Hi,” Richie blurted out stupidly. “Uh. How you doin’?”**********************A special prompt fic dedicated to the lovely, amazing peach_medusa
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 14
Kudos: 153





	Words Are Very Unnecessary

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Peach_Medusa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peach_Medusa/gifts).



> This fic is presented to you as a request by the amazing peach_medusa, who made me the most adorable birthday presents and deserved something lovely in return. 
> 
> Please heed tags for any possible triggers/content warnings. The type presented here by Eddie is a Total Psychogenic Mutism, which is not related to TBI or related to any past diseases. Please don't use fanfics as education and look up things for yourself if you want to learn more.
> 
> That being said, I hope you enjoy this short sweet little fic <3
> 
> fic title from lyrics of Enjoy the Silence by Depeche Mode

“Have you ever talked to him?”

“Huh? Wh-who?”

“Literally the only other person who was in the waiting room with you.”

“Oh, uh… n-no,” Bill shrugged, finally clicking his seatbelt in Richie’s shitty Daewoo. “I haven’t s-s-spoken to him b-before.”

“Isn’t that the whole point of speech therapy?” Richie asked, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, his eyes still set on the glass door Bill had just emerged from. 

“Who comes to pick him up?”

“What m-makes you th-think he n-n-needs a ride?” Bill laughed. “S-speaking like shit and b-b-bad driving is n-not a correlation. I j-just suck.”

Uncharacteristically silent, Richie leaned back in his carseat, arms outstretched in front of him where his hands still rested on the wheel. Bill looked around pointedly before raising an eyebrow at Richie, who still was not driving away.

“He smiled at me.”

“Wha- who?”

“That _guy,"_ Richie sighed exasperatedly. “Every time I pick you up he looks up and smiles at me.”

“W-would you prefer the b-b-bird?”

“Fuck off,” Richie muttered. “You know what I mean.”

Bill frowned, looking back up and through the glass door where the other guy was still sitting, occasionally checking his watch. “You th-think he’s… like us?”

“What, a big ole’ queer?” Richie snorted. Despite teasing, Bill could sense the tiniest bit of hope in his voice.

“A-ask him out.”

“Are you fucking crazy?”

“R-R-Richie. It’s s-speech therapy. N-no one there t-t-talks _well,_ l-let alone well enough to spill s-secrets.”

Richie contemplated this for a moment, jerking oddly in his seat as if he were about to take his seatbelt off before thinking better of it. “He can still laugh. Or be disgusting. Most people are disgusted. Like those guys that threw their milkshakes on you and Stan when they saw you kiss at the carnival.”

“Then you know he’s an asshole and not to waste your time,” Bill said heatedly.

Richie cocked an eyebrow over at him. “Not one stutter, Billy Boy. We found your cure: Angry Defender of the Homos.”

“J-just go fucking do it. He’s p-probably waiting for the bus. P-plus, you really should g-g-graduate college with ah-ah-at least _one_ t-true sex story.”

“Fuck off,” Richie muttered, flipping Bill the finger before finally getting out of the car.

It was too goddamn cold out, even for a Mainer, Richie thought to himself as he did an awkward two-step jog back up to the clinic through the beginnings of a snow storm. A rush of heat hit him when he walked back inside, the tiny bell atop the doorframe jangling to make his presence known. 

Only the one young man sat in the waiting room still. He looked up from his lap and Richie swore his eyes weren’t _that_ fucking pretty before. Or maybe he just wasn’t paying enough attention, but they caught Richie up like a deer in headlights.

The wind was knocked right out of Richie’s chest when he _smiled_ at Richie again, the slightest tint of pink on his cheeks, his limbs shuffling around in a way that could only be bashfulness, like he wanted to fold in on himself and hide in his own skin. Richie had been pining over this guy for _months,_ and he had rehearsed this greeting about a million times.

“Hi,” Richie blurted out stupidly. “Uh. How you doin’?”

The guy blinked and slowly raised his right hand, giving Richie the smallest of waves. 

“You, uh… waiting for someone?”

He was met with more silence, but the boy pointed out the window to Richie’s left, and he turned to see the bus stop across the street. When Richie turned back, the boy pointed to his watch and shrugged.

“Ah. Yeah, the bus runs late. You’d think Derry wouldn’t act like there was an apocalypse any time it snowed, but alas.” He chuckled awkwardly and the boy smiled politely up at him in return.

_Right. Speech therapy, dumbass._

“You want a ride?” _Oh. Forward, Richard._

To his surprise, the boys blush deepened until his face reddened delightfully, biting his lip and shifting in his seat shyly. He looked around Richie to where Bill was likely watching from the passenger's seat, probably deciding if the risk of riding with a stranger was worth it if he knew another person along for the ride.

Richie couldn’t stop himself from grinning when the boy nodded his head enthusiastically. He got up from the seat and Richie nearly choked on his spit when he saw this guy _barely_ gained any additional height when he stood, the top of his head just reaching Richie’s shoulder. 

“What’s your name?” Richie asked immediately to stop himself from cracking a joke about the height difference. 

As if he didn’t hear Richie, the boy shuffled through some papers that had been set beside him, shoving them clumsily into an open backpack before zipping it up. He slung it on his shoulder and reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a handheld notebook, thrusting it forward for Richie to see. On the front of the tiny red spiral notebook was scratchy handwriting in black marker that read:

> **Eddie K.**
> 
> **Don’t yell, I can hear.**
> 
> **I am totally mute.**
> 
> **Please be patient.**

“Oh, wow,” Richie blurted out. “Like… totally?”

Eddie nodded.

“This didn’t help?” he asked, gesturing vaguely at the clinic they stood in. But he realized how _intrusive_ that was to ask a stranger, especially as Eddie shuffled his feet around awkwardly. “Sorry. None of my business. C’mon, let me take you home so you don’t have to wait outside in the cold when they close.”

Eddie held his arms close together to his chest as he followed Richie outside through the increasingly erratic wind, fresh snow falling and blowing along in little swirls in the air. Richie politely waited to make sure Eddie could get into the backseat before hopping in the front seat himself. 

“So, where we taking ya, Champ?” Richie asked politely, turning in his seat so he could see Eddie clearly. “This is Bill, by the way, he’s my best friend's bo- _friend_. Bill, this is Eddie.”

“Hi, Eddie,” Bill muttered awkwardly, looking bewildered, as if Richie was dragging him along for a date right here and now.

Richie waited while Eddie scribbled something down and handed it to him to show some unknown address further up town.

“You live above a shop or something?” Richie asked, recognizing the area. “I’ve always wanted to see what those places were like…” But he stopped short when Eddie shook his head. “Oh. Uh, I guess let’s just. Take you back before it gets too crazy out, yeah.” He turned to Bill before pulling his car out of the parking lot. “We’re just taking him home.”

“Oh. Okay.”

The rest of the ride was… awkward, to the say least. Richie kept _forgetting_ Eddie couldn’t answer him, or that he was too busy _driving_ to properly turn and read anything Eddie could have written for him in response. Thankfully (or _un_ thankfully, however you wanted to look at it), Richie had a tendency to blabber on about nothing, periodically catching Eddie’s gaze in the rear view and seeing him smile cheerfully from the back seat. They eventually got where they were supposed to end up after driving slowly through the snow, although Richie became hesitant upon arrival.

“Uh, this is it?” Richie asked, looking down at the address and up again. It certainly _was,_ it matched exactly what Eddie had written down, but a cold sensation swept through Richie despite the heat blasting from his vents. He tried his very best to ignore the fact he was dropping this guy off at a _homeless shelter._

Of course, Eddie didn’t _answer_ Richie, so he turned again to look at him and saw those doe-brown eyes wide in panic, glistening wet and staring out ahead of him as he gripped his backpack tightly in his lap. Richie followed Eddie’s gaze towards a large-figured woman on the sidewalk, her face either blistered red from the wind or flushed with the clear anger etched on her expression.

Something was clearly _wrong_ but what the hell does Richie even _do_ in a situation like this, especially in regards to a total stranger? Before he could even think of what to say, Eddie was shoving something into Richie’s hands. He looked down and saw Eddie was hurriedly trying to give him cash for the ride.

“Nononono,” Richie assured him, trying to push the money back to him. “This was a favor, you don’t have to pay me.”

There was a desperation in the way Eddie was still trying to make Richie take the money, his eyes still locked on the woman on the sidewalk. Something clicked, and Richie gently took one of Eddie’s hands to stop his movements for just a second.

“Can I offer an alternative?” Richie asked. Finally, Eddie stopped and looked back up at Richie with a strange mixture of terror and curiosity. “I can take your money if you really want. Or, you can let me take you out on a date?”

“Ohmygodnotwithmeinthecar,” Bill mumbled quietly, turning to look away awkwardly. 

A noise did come out of Eddie’s mouth then, some kind of startled sound an animal might make. Richie wasn’t sure what to expect when Eddie couldn’t throw any expletives at him or call him a slur. Maybe he’d spit in Richie’s face? For a moment, Richie thought he really would spit on him, seeing his mouth open and close for a moment and reeling back, but then it was only for him to lean back and pull out his notebook again. He waited for Eddie to scribble something in quick, chicken-scratch handwriting, tearing it out to hand to Richie like he had done before.

There was another address there and underneath it read:

> _No front door! 2nd window left side house_
> 
> _Fri 8pm?_

“Sure!” Richie told him, a little perplexed but otherwise excited. “I’ll, uh, pick you up?”

He supposed that was a yes, as Eddie bolted out of the car. He waved for them to go before stepping up onto the sidewalk, looking at them pointedly.

“Let’s g-g-go,” Bill said immediately. “He d-doesn’t want you seeing him g-g-go into the shelter.”

“Who the fuck is this lady?” Richie grunted, doing his best to keep an eye on her while he was backing his car out. Eddie looked terrified to see her.

“P-p-probably no one. J-just get me home to my b-boyfriend so I can n-n-nap.”

Richie pestered Stan the second they got home so that he could pick Bill up from therapy every day. Unfortunately, for the first time in months, Richie stopped seeing the handsome stranger named Eddie sitting in the office, waiting for the bus. It was strange, even stranger when he took into account the weird note Eddie had left for him, but he still planned out a date in case this wouldn’t be a complete disaster.

Richie was not one to normally care about his appearance. As long as it was bright and colorful, it made him happy, so he put it on. If Eddie couldn’t appreciate that, then… well, maybe he wasn’t the right type for Richie.

Or he could change his entire wardrobe if Eddie didn’t like it. Richie would do that.

Ok, don’t get head over heels here, Tozier. 

So it turned out to be a house, Richie realized as he pulled up to the new address Eddie had left for him. Only one light was on downstairs, but Richie was wary about making too much noise given the instructions he received on Eddie’s note. He closed his car door ever so gently and snuck around to the side of the house where Eddie said to go. It was impossible to be completely quiet with the way the snow crunched under his feet, but it was windy enough to drown out the sound, he thinks.

Richie walked up to the window and rapped gently on the frame. According to his watch, he was just about on time: 8:02 PM. He took a step back once he heard some shuffling and watched the window open until Eddie popped his head out.

Almost all of Richie’s concerns washed away seeing that happy, freckled face looking back out at him. He grinned and waved, figuring he had to be quiet. “Ready to go?” he whispered.

Eddie bit his lip, carefully pulling out his notebook from where he was leaning his chest out the window. Richie patiently watched while he wrote until he turned it back for Richie to read.

> _I dont know if I can leave_

“Why not?”

It was impossible to miss the worry on Eddie’s face and Richie watched him scribble and scribble until he showed Richie a mess of words.

> _Mom_
> 
> _Doesnt want me out of the house_
> 
> _Says its dangerous_
> 
> _Im too scared to leave_
> 
> _Im sorry_

“No way,” Richie said. “Fuck that. You’re a grown ass man. How old are you?”

That probably wasn’t the nicest thing to say, Richie realized, watching shame ghost over Eddie’s face. He quickly jotted down a number, looking away sheepishly as he showed Richie.

> _21_

“Why can’t you stay at the shelter?”

> _Tried_
> 
> _Found me_

“How long were you there?”

> _26 days_

“Before that?”

Eddie frowned, looking thoughtful before scribbling something down again.

> _“Friend”_
> 
> _Found me in park_
> 
> _Stayed in his house_
> 
> _Very bad - ran away_
> 
> _Slept on bench for a week_
> 
> _Found shelter_

“Couldn’t have been worse than here. But, I take it you’re pretty wary of staying with someone else again then, right?”

Eddie looked up at Richie again, meeting his eyes for the first time since Richie cursed.

“Seriously though, how long were you in this house before you ran away to the park?”

Eddie raised his hand, spreading all five fingers.

“Five months? _Years?_ In the fucking house? Did you ever leave?”

Eddie shook his head.

> _16 birthday_
> 
> _HS dropout_
> 
> _Stayed home since_

Richie’s blood was boiling at the thought of this, thinking of this poor fucking guy being manipulated by this woman taking advantage of his _literal inability to ask for help._ It’s not like he could dial a phone and call the cops. Not to mention, if this was the woman he saw at the shelter, she _towered_ over Eddie physically. It wouldn’t be hard to see her as emotionally domineering.

“Eddie, I know we don’t like… _know_ each other that well, but does it help if I say Bill is one of my roommates so if you show up dead, there’s too much connection for me to get away with it?”

That did _not help._ Why does Richie open his fucking mouth sometimes?

After seeing Stanley go through this a few times, Richie immediately recognized the panic attack he had just given Eddie. Except, while Stanley often grounded himself by reciting various bird species, Eddie apparently found an unhealthy outlet of smacking the sides of his own head with his fists. Richie took advantage of his height, stepping forward and gently trying to coax Eddie to stop so he wouldn’t hurt himself. It was a little difficult, since he didn’t want to touch Eddie without his consent.

“Hey, hey, take it easy,” Richie said softly, inching his hands closer in the hopes Eddie would let him reach out and hold onto him. “You’re going to hurt yourself. I promise nothing is going to happen to you, I swear on my life.”

Eddie took a big gulp of breath, finally dropping his hands to grip the window ledge tightly. His limbs were shaking and he was close to hyperventilating.

“Hey, let me - can I - ?” 

He raised one of his hands tentatively closer and Eddie, to Richie’s surprise, nodded. He even leaned into the touch when Richie held onto his cheek, warm and soft against his cold palm.

“Gimme your hand,” Richie asked before gently pulling one of Eddie’s hands out the window and placing it against his chest. “Feel my breathing, ok? When I breathe in, breathe in. And out. Got it?” He took a nice, deep steady breath and smiled as Eddie followed suit. After ten breaths, Eddie’s muscles all relaxed and he was starting to breath on his own a little easier.

“Better?” Richie asked kindly, rubbing his thumb along Eddie’s cheek.

Richie eventually coaxed Eddie anxiously out the window, catching him around the waist when he dropped down.

So tiny. So cute.

“Ok, so instead of kidnapping you for a date, why don’t I take you to my place and we can… think of a plan? You can crash on my couch. Very cozy. Spent many drunken stupors on it.”

Eddie nodded, offering Richie the smallest of smiles. 

“Do you need anything in the house?”

Eddie made a face of surprise and immediately turned to try and climb up the window, falling as he did so since he was too short to climb over the ledge from the ground outside.

“Easy, easy, what do you need?”

Eddie made a motion like he was swinging something over his shoulder.

“Backpack? Ok, hold on.”

Five minutes later, they both sat in silence as Richie drove his shitty old Daewoo back to his townhouse. He wasn’t exactly sure how Stan and Bill were going to react to his new, uh, roommate. But maybe given the circumstances, they could understand.

“Were you born mute?”

Eddie shook his head.

“How old were you? If you don’t mind me asking. Just like… tap the dashboard… twelve? Shit. How does that happen?”

They were stopped at a red light and Richie looked over to watch Eddie make a sort of charade. He clutched his heart dramatically and made a face that Richie would akin to the mirror scene in Home Alone.

“So, something… scared you mute?”

Eddie waved his hand around, almost like _sort of._

“That… sucks.” Eloquent as always, Richard.

*******

Stanley and Richie both peaked out of the kitchen to look at Bill and Eddie sitting on the couch together, Eddie looking worried as Bill was probably explaining one of his shitty short stories to an audience that couldn’t say no. 

“He said his moms been keeping him locked up like Rapunzel or some shit. I’m actually genuinely concerned for his well being.”

Stanley sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “God, that’s so fucked up. She didn’t see you, right?”

“No, I think we’re in the clear.”

“Well, he’s welcome to stay for a bit while you guys think of something. Maybe you can figure something out this weekend.”

When all three of them woke up Saturday morning to a near spotless living room and kitchen, Stanley was quick to comment, smiling over at Eddie who was already showered and watching cartoons on the couch.

“This was incredibly kind of you. You didn’t have to do all this, you know.”

Eddie smiled shyly, sinking down further into the couch. Stanley got the hint, giving him some space before Richie was flopping down right next to him. Eddie shrugged, still looking down at his lap sheepishly.

“You want some clean clothes? I have way more than a man should, anyway.”

Richie _really_ did try not to laugh when Eddie came out looking like a toddler who had raided a grown ups closet. He rolled up the sleeves of the sweater Richie gave him about a million times and tucked the black sweatpants into his socks so he wouldn’t trip over them. 

“Cute, cute, cute!” Richie laughed, wiping a tear from his cheek.

Eddie blushed furiously and lightly smacked Richie on the arm, but he didn’t hide the smile on his face. 

“Maybe we can go to the thrift store tomorrow?”

Eddie huffed, miming an action of pulling out empty pockets.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m paying you for your kind cleaning services for the day. Just until you can get a job!” Richie assured him as he still looked at Richie grumpily. “Anything you want to do today?”

They ended up spending the whole morning and afternoon in Richie’s room while Richie blabbered on and physically held his breath any moment Eddie went to write something so that he wouldn’t _interrupt_ him, like he would normally do when other people were talking. Eddie stayed on the floor most of the time, but had slowly inched his way closer and closer to the mattress Richie had on the floor (“What’s the point of a bed frame anyway?”). 

“What was wrong with the guy you stayed with before?”

Eddie’s face fell, wringing his hands together for a moment before picking up his notebook. He stopped and continued writing a few times until he finally lifted it for Richie to see, his heart dropping in his chest when he looked at what Eddie wrote.

> _“I bet I can make you scream. Its not like you can say no”_

“That’s not going to happen again,” Richie whispered, trying to keep his voice firm until it broke near the end; he couldn’t exactly handle Eddie tearing up. “I promise.”

Stan tried to help Eddie figure out what kind of jobs he could get. Computer jobs were on the rise, but it was still difficult to find something where he wouldn’t have to use some form of communication. Along with his muteness, Eddie was conditionally shy and extremely anxious, on top of a load of other sensory sensitivities he had, so the prospect of _trying_ to communicate with people was very daunting for him.

“If he gets his license, he could be a taxi or a limo driver,” Stanley suggested. “Everyone hates when their drivers talk to them.”

Richie rolled his eyes, but Eddie wrote down _I like cars!_ in large letters that took up a whole page. 

“He c-could be a m-m-mechanic,” Bill said. “S-someone should fix your c-car, Richie. It’s a p-piece of shit.”

Eddie pointed at Bill and nodded enthusiastically, looking up at Richie with a bright smile. How could Richie deny a face like that? His Daewoo could certainly do with a check-up, anyway.

Two weeks after bringing Eddie home, Richie was startled awake by the weight shifting on the bed, opening his eyes in the dark to see Eddie’s small figure crawling onto the mattress.

“Hey,” Richie grumbled. “Watchu doin’?”

It took Richie a few seconds to understand what the hell Eddie was doing as he kept pushing on his shoulder, rolling him over to face the other way. Once he was facing away from Eddie, he felt Eddie’s small, slender arms wrap around his waist, spooning him from behind.

They had spent some time together over the last few days with Richie trying to teach him morse code to make it easier for Eddie to communicate to Richie without using the notebook each time. At least until Richie could learn more ASL that Eddie would use sometimes. He felt Eddie tap his index finger on his chest and a small smile spread on Richie’s face.

.... .. _(hi)_

Richie was glad to have remembered such a silly thing from his childhood, when he and Stan would pass unwritten ‘letters’ back and forth in class. He reached his hand up, rubbing up and down Eddie’s arm to leave Eddie’s hand free for movement. 

“I’m really glad you’re here, Eddie.”

\-- . / - --- --- _(me too)_

On his way home from class before the winter break, Richie stopped at the college campus store and picked up something from the school supplies section with some gift wrap. With Christmas just about here, all they had left was an ugly green kind with creepy looking Santa Claus’s all over it, but it would have to do. Richie clumsily wrapped it up in his car before heading inside, happy to see Eddie looking through a school catalog.

“You know, the Spring semester will probably be a much better time to start your first classes,” Richie told Eddie as he sat down, pulling his backpack onto his lap (where Eddie’s gift was hiding among his notebooks inside). “Excited about the classes you picked?”

Without even looking up, Eddie lifted his notebook, having already written _youre late_ on the page.

“I had to pick something up,” Richie grinned, pulling out the poorly wrapped gift and plopping it down in front of Eddie.

He watched with amusement as Eddie started flapping his hands around in frustration, his cheeks blushing furiously. He kept pointing at himself with worry etched all over his face and Richie finally realized what that meant and said, “You didn’t _have_ to get me anything! Just open it, please? It’s small, I promise.”

Eddie huffed, which Richie secretly loved hearing, like a small ghost of the voice Eddie could have. He waited patiently as Eddie carefully unwrapped the present to reveal the small whiteboard and dry erase marker set.

“I figured it might be easier than the notebook sometimes,” Richie explained, smiling more broadly as he saw Eddie’s face light up inspecting the gift. “It doesn’t waste as much paper, either.”

Eddie excitedly pulled out a red marker, biting the bottom of it while he thought of the first thing he wanted to write down on it. Then he pulled it close to his face and scribbled something down before turning it around for Richie to say.

> _Still owe me a date_

“Uh, excuse me, but _you_ owe _me_ a date for the car ride.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, but looked down shyly waiting for Richie to speak again.

“Are you sure?” Richie asked carefully. Eddie had been terrified to leave the townhouse, even sometimes peeking out the blinds as if his mother was going to come stomping by any minute. He had finally gone to the school campus yesterday with Bill to sign up for the next semester, and Bill said he was stressed out the entire time they were out.

Yet, he wrung his hands together shyly and nodded, looking up at Richie through his lashes in such a way that Richie was sure he was going to have heart palpitations. 

Near their townhouse was a little park, the lake deep in the center of it completely frozen. It was a quiet, beautiful winter wonderland; the ice sheets blanketing the trees looked like spectacular diamonds in the sunlight peeking through the clouds. Eddie dragged Richie under a giant oak where the refraction of the icy crystals made little rainbows sparkle on his wind-blistered cheeks.

“You are so fucking gorgeous,” Richie confessed breathlessly, cupping one of Eddie’s cheeks. Richie’s heart soared with delight as Eddie pushed himself up on his tippy toes to kiss him, throwing his arms around Richie’s neck.

“It’s kind of weird how good you are with your tongue, considering - _ow!”_ Richie giggled after Eddie pinched his side.

Coaxing Eddie out of the house for the first day of classes was much easier when Richie could pepper his face with kisses and drag him out of bed by the hand. Eddie had insisted that he didn’t need Richie to stay on campus with him the whole day, but the panic attack Eddie had in the car told him otherwise. 

It became easier over time, but Richie always kept his distress in mind, knowing that whenever he was away from Eddie there was a very good possibility that he was struggling or that someone was getting frustrated with Eddie over something beyond his control. Learning to let that go throughout his day so it wouldn’t consume his thoughts took a great amount of willpower, but Eddie always ended his day wrapping his arms around Richie in a warm embrace and letting all those worries wash away.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Richie asked Eddie one evening, snuggled up on the couch. Eddie’s brow knit together and Richie watched Eddie’s hands carefully as he slowly signed for Richie.

_I miss my mom. Is something wrong with me?_

“Eds, she’s your mom. That’s perfectly normal, no matter how she treated you.”

_Is it ok?_

“Of course it is,” Richie assured him, brushing his fingers through Eddie’s hair. “I’m also really proud of you for telling me this stuff. I know it’s gotta be really hard.”

While Eddie was learning to communicate more and more, Richie (to Stan and Bill’s immense surprise) was learning to value _silence._ Some time in February, he had been blabbering on endlessly about god knows what until he felt Eddie’s small hand slowly cover his mouth. Eddie put his finger to his lips, politely asking Richie to _hush,_ which was a difficult exercise for him to practice. Every time he tried to speak again for that next hour, Eddie made a noise sucking the air through his teeth like he was silencing a dog from barking, a small smirk playing on his lips while he read his book until Richie gave up and plopped his head in Eddie’s lap. 

Richie had been under the false impression that he had to be hyperverbal in order to amuse people, but Eddie could send him into hysterics from his odd humor and silly mannerisms. He was so genuine and funny in a way Richie couldn’t fathom. In return, Richie couldn’t stop himself from eliciting breathy giggles from his little boyfriend, loving the way his face scrunched up and he’d squeal with glee whenever Richie made him laugh, banging his small fist on the surface of something while clutching his chest. Those were some of Richie’s favorite sounds in the world, matched only by one other thing.

“Are you sure, baby?” Richie whispered, leaning back against his pillow while Eddie stood up and roughly pulled Richie’s pants off. He nodded enthusiastically, plopping himself back down on the bed after throwing Richies’s pants to the side. He cocked an eyebrow at Richie questioningly and turned his finger over a few times. “Oh, like… have you turned over? No, no, I gotta look at you the first time,” Richie insisted, pulling Eddie close to him as he rolled Eddie onto his back. “Is this ok?”

Eddie nodded fervently, practically vibrating with excitement. They kept kissing like this as they slowly stripped the rest of their clothes away and it was impossible to miss how wide Eddie grinned when he touched Richie’s dick for the first time.

Richie pulled back and burst out laughing when Eddie looked up with wide eyes and signed _Big!_

“Thanks,” Richie chuckled, kissing down Eddie’s neck. “I promise I’ll be gentle ok? _Ow!”_ he cried as Eddie pulled his head back by the hair. Eddie shook his head. “Not gentle? Ok, well I can’t _hurt_ you, we’ve never done this before. We gotta take it easy the first time.”

Eddie pouted, but Richie rolled his eyes, kissing his cheek before rolling over to grab the lube. “All right, you little shit, we’ll see how confident you are about taking a pounding once all of it's up there then.”

He didn’t miss the silly smirk on Eddie’s face, but eventually Eddie relaxed under him, sighing contentedly once Richie slid his first digit between Eddie’s legs into the warm space. With each finger he added, Eddie started becoming more worked up, writhing around impatiently and throwing his head against the pillow and begging with his eyes silently until neither of them could wait anymore. 

And _that_ noise, the little whimper that escaped Eddie’s throat when Richie pressed into him the first time was one of the sweetest sounds Richie had ever heard. Eddie’s back arched up at the sensation while Richie rocked his hips back and forth, trying to keep them steady and concentrate on making Eddie feel good. Since Eddie couldn’t use his words, they had practiced some hand motions and nonverbal communication beforehand and Eddie was already signaling Richie to _go go go._

“That feels good?” Richie asked as he angled his hips up in hopes to hit Eddie’s prostate just right, smiling as Eddie nodded enthusiastically. Eddie reached up and gently tapped Richie’s lips, a sign he wanted Richie to talk to him more, but Richie had no idea what to say since his brain was nothing but expletives and static. 

He tried whispering sweet nothings, but Eddie shook his head and made a crude gesture with his hands, sticking his index finger into a loop of his other hand roughly. Richie shook with laughter again, but collected himself as quickly as he could.

“Yeah, you want it dirty?” he asked, grinning down at Eddie. “You want me to tell you how fucking tight you feel baby? Fuck, you feel so good for me, Eds.” The more he went on, the louder Eddie got, his eyes going hazy while his cheeks flushed, tapping Richie with the right signals to egg him on more. Richie reached up and tugged the top of Eddie’s hair to give himself some leverage and made Eddie whine some more, grinding his hips harder as he whispered harshly in Eddie’s ear, “You want me to fucking wreck your little hole with my big cock, huh?” Eddie nodded and whimpered and Richie brought his other hand down to smack Eddie’s ass right under where he was fucking him. 

Richie had no idea how he managed to last as long as he did considering he had never done this before, especially with the most perfect fucking human being he had ever laid eyes on. Seeing Eddie throw his head back, eyes fluttering shut as he came on his stomach, was what finally did Richie in, biting down into Eddie’s neck to stop himself from screaming out too loudly. 

They would be getting a complaint from Stan about the noise in the morning anyway, but that didn’t matter now. Not when Richie had his arms wrapped around his little love, brushing his hair back from his sweaty forehead, planting kisses all along his perfect face. He only broke his gaze away from Eddie’s smile when he saw Eddie raise his hand; his pinky, index and thumb raised in the familiar symbol Richie burned in his brain from his ASL books but had been too afraid to use yet. 

Before now, he had imagined _saying_ it a thousand times over these few months Eddie had been living with him. But if Eddie taught him anything, it was that sometimes things needn’t be said, as long as they were felt. He raised his own hand and mimicked it, pressing it gently against Eddie’s and kissing him softly on the lips, passing along the simple and powerful message right back to him; _I love you, too._


End file.
